


The Mailman

by luluren



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Philadelphia, mailman, print shop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 18:10:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4189845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luluren/pseuds/luluren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A print shop, the mailman, and lots of coffee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mailman

**Author's Note:**

> Thought I'd try something different this time around. I hope you enjoy!

“Y’know, if you’re just gonna stare at him the whole time…”

“Shut up,” Babe says, dropping his gaze to the counter where a stack of mail sits. A blush works it’s way up his neck and when he looks back up, the mailman is at the door, his hand on the door knob. But then he turns and throws Babe a smile and fuck, his insides melt just a little.

Seeing the mailman makes Babe go insane for a few minutes every day. 

\---------------------------------------------

“Jesus Christ, Babe, put your tongue back in your mouth,” Bill says, snickering.

For once, Babe would love to have a day where he’s not blushing furiously and wishing the floor would open up and swallow him.

“Shut up, Bill,” he says out of the corner of his mouth. The mailman is coming closer and Babe would swear he’s smirking. It’s like the bastard knows they’re talking about him.

“Hey,” he says, handing the mail to Babe across the counter while Bill laughs quietly. It takes every ounce of self-control for Babe not to reach over and punch his friend.

“Hey,” he says instead, steadily ignoring everything around him with the exception of the dark haired man on the other side of the counter.

“How’s it goin’?” the mailman asks, smiling at Babe.

Outwardly, Babe is a picture of serenity (as long as one ignores the flush on his cheeks) but inside he’s rejoicing because the man is actually having a conversation with him.

“It’s great. How-”

“So what’s your name?” Bill interrupts, glancing at Babe with a positively evil smile before turning his attention back to the mailman. “Ya come in here every day and we got no idea who ya are.”

The man smiles, his gaze flickering back and forth between Babe and Bill. “Eugene. Gene Roe.”

Bill holds his hand out. “Nice to meet ya, Eugene. I’m Bill Guarnere, and this red-headed asshole is Babe Heffron.”

Babe’s pretty sure he’s never wanted to hit someone as much as he wants to hit Bill right now. The mailman – Eugene – shakes Bill’s hand before turning to Babe.

“Babe, huh?” he asks, staring intently and making those pesky butterflies in Babe’s stomach flutter faster. “That your real name?”

Babe’s not sure how he manages to reach out and take the man’s hand without shaking, but when those long, cool fingers wrap around his, he finds he can’t speak. He has to clear his throat a few times. “Y-Yeah.”

Eugene’s eyebrows lift a fraction. “Really? That’s your name?”

“Fuck,” Babe says, the flush intensifying. “Nah, it’s Ed. Edward.”

“Don’t mind this idiot.” Bill claps Babe on the shoulder and gives his signature he-he laugh. Babe cringes as it echoes around the tiny print shop. “Swear he was dropped on his head when he was little. Ask his ma and she’ll deny it, but I know.”

Not wanting to look, and actually not looking are two different things, because even though Babe knows his face is as red as his hair he can’t help but direct his gaze to Eugene. Gene. Who’s currently staring at him with a lopsided grin that’s doing really strange things to every nerve ending in Babe’s body. 

“Edward’s head looks just fine to me,” Gene says softly, talking to both of them but it’s pretty obvious it’s not meant for Bill.

Jesus. 

“It’s Babe,” he replies faintly.

Gene smirks, his eyes dropping down to the counter and Babe’s pretty sure he’s staring at Babe’s fingers as they tap, tap, tap against the envelopes. The tapping grows faster until Gene looks back up, that damn smirk still on those lips and Babe’s fingers come to a stop.

“Nice to meet you, Edward.” 

He’s almost at the door before Babe manages to open his mouth and say something back. “Nice to meet you too, Eugene.”

The dark haired man with that crazy accent and lazy smiles and God…

“Seriously Babe. You’ve got a problem.”

Bill’s leaning against the side of the counter, a knowing smirk on his face. Must the man have an opinion on everything? 

With a long, drawn out sigh Babe picks up the mail and tosses it behind him on the counter. “Y’know, just ‘cause I told you I think I … well-”

“Swing for the same team?” Bill interjects extremely unhelpfully.

If looks could kill, Bill would be dead. Dead and buried and long forgotten. “It doesn’t mean I want to jump right into-”

“The mailman’s pants?”

“Jesus Christ, Bill! Shut the fuck up!” Babe picks up a pen from the counter and flings it at Bill, who’s cackling away like a mad man, his face turning red. “I’m gonna strangle you one of these days, you know that, right?”

Bill picks up another pen and throws it at Babe, hitting him square on the chest. “Nah, you ain’t got the nerve. And besides, what the hell would you do without ol’ Guarnere?” 

“Want me to make a list?” 

“I know you, Heffron,” he continues as though Babe hadn’t just spoken, “and you’ll never talk to him on your own. So I gotta be the one to push ya.”

He’s right. Coming to grips with who he finds attractive after being more than a little confused since high school is a slow process, because he honestly has no idea what to do next. Yeah, he could charm a girl right out of her sensible white panties but a guy? Where would he even start?

“You could be a little more subtle about it,” Babe suggests. 

“I could be. But that ain’t no fun. And you know how much I like to watch you blush.”

“Shut up, Bill.”

“You’re blushin’ now, y’know that right?”

“Fuck. Off.”

Babe turns on his heel and heads into the back storage room, face flaming.

Fucking Bill. Seriously.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

Babe’s in the bathroom the next day when Eugene comes, and he decides that Bill takes way too much pleasure in telling him how sad Eugene looked and how the light went out in his eyes when he didn’t see Babe and… “Just felt bad for him, y’know?”

“I’m sure you did,” Babe replies, rolling his eyes and trying to swallow his disappointment. Eugene really is the highlight of his day and now he’s nothing to look forward to.

The print shop’s slow this afternoon, probably due to the almost-hurricane like winds outside. Thoughts drift to the mailman and he can’t imagine having to work outside; Babe’d probably drop half the envelopes and wouldn’t the other shop owners just love that.

This is why he works inside, where he can drop things and not have them blow away. Granted, he could definitely _break_ things, and has on a few occasions, but that’s not the point. 

With closing time still a few hours away, Babe pulls his jacket on and heads out for a cigarette, glad to get outdoors for a moment despite the wind. 

He’s halfway through his cigarette when a familiar figure stops in front of him and Babe thinks his heart couldn’t beat any faster than it is.

“Hey, Edward.”

Under normal circumstances, being called Edward usually means he’s in trouble which is why he really doesn’t like it. But when he says it with that soft rhythmic accent, the letters just rolling right off his tongue – Jesus.  
“H-Hey,” Babe says, his voice squeaking embarrassingly. He takes a drag of his cigarette because he’s got no fucking clue what to say next.

“Thought I wasn’t gonna see you today,” Gene says, leaning against the brick wall beside Babe and pulling his own pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket.

Babe wants to say something like “Me either,” or “Sorry I missed you,” but his brain decides to stop sending words to his mouth and instead he gives a nervous laugh. He watches as Gene attempts to light a cigarette, though the flame keeps going out with the wind whipping past.

Without actually thinking about it, Babe steps closer and cups his hands around the other man’s, their faces just inches apart. “Try it now,” he says. He looks at Gene, who’s staring back at him and it’s all so crazy because they can’t seem to stop looking at each other but then a car beeps its horn from across the street, ruining the moment.

“Thanks,” Gene says, leaning into their cupped hands and finally lighting his cigarette.

Babe steps back and leans against the wall, feeling almost feverish. He can’t imagine what a real relationship might be like if he’s losing all coherent thought just from touching another man’s hands.

Get a grip, Heffron.

“So…” Gene says, leaning against the wall with one shoulder, smoke whipping between them. “Bill tells me you enjoy coffee.”

“Really? He said that?” A terrible thought comes to him, and he blanches. “Christ, he didn’t tell you I was in the bathroom, did he?”

That smirk comes out again, along with a strong gust of wind that almost sends Babe into Gene’s personal space. “Yeah, he did. Seemed to think I needed to know.”

Bill’s dead. Fucking. Dead. Heat rises up from Babe’s chest and he ducks his head, resisting the urge to run back into the shop and knock Bill upside the head.

“Sorry. Bill, well, he doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.” Another gust of wind blows at Babe’s back and he stumbles a bit before Gene reaches out and grabs his elbow.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you. Seems like your friend gets a kick out of bringin’ you up when you’re not there.” He’s still holding onto Babe’s elbow and he gives it a squeeze, his fingers pressing against the fabric of Babe’s jacket. “I can’t complain though.”

“You can’t?” Babe asks stupidly.

That damnable smirk appears on Gene’s lips and he laughs softly, releasing Babe’s elbow. “If I don’t get to see you, Bill always make sure I hear about you.”

For the first time since the ribbing started, Babe doesn’t want to punch Bill in the face because really, he is trying to help here. 

Sort of. 

“Yeah, he does that to me too,” Babe says, dropping his cigarette, intending to stamp it out but the wind blows it halfway down the street. 

“Wonder why that it?” Gene asks thoughtfully, staring at Babe with a significant look in his eyes before pulling a stack of mail out of his bag. “See you tomorrow, Edward.”

Speechless, Babe watches as Gene turns and starts down the sidewalk, pausing at the edge before crossing the street. Babe gives a small wave when Gene turns and flashes him a smile, and after a few much needed moments to come back to the real world, Babe returns inside and ignores Bill as best as he can, mind full of somewhat crazy thoughts of the mailman.

Because yeah, Bill might be helping somewhat, but he’s still an asshole.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

Babe’s uploading files to his computer when the door opens the next morning. Because of his stalker-ish tendencies where Eugene’s timing is concerned, he doesn’t look up until a soft, “Hey, Edward,” greets him across the counter.

Lifting his head so fast his neck cracks, he looks into a set of lazy eyes and his mouth goes dry. 

“You’re early today,” he says, then cringes – did he really just say that?

“I am,” the man says, pushing a cup of coffee across the counter. “Didn’t think your coffee would be warm if I waited.” 

Babe stares the white cup with its black sleeve before moving his gaze back to the man across the counter. 

He’s brought me coffee, Babe thinks wildly. He’s elated and excited and fucking scared out of his wits because _the mailman brought him coffee_.

Looking up at Gene, Babe smiles shyly, sure his cheeks are on fire, and wraps a hand around the hot cup. “Thanks, Gene. This is … awesome, really.”

Bill’s voice travels from the back room to interrupt their inadvertent staring contest, and Gene grins at Babe. “You’re welcome, Edward. I’ll see you later, huh?”

Nodding, because words have once again become impossible, Babe watches Gene walk out the front door before dropping his eyes back to the cup of coffee in front of him. He just wants to stare at it for awhile, but Bill’s voice is moving closer to the front of the shop, bitching about the toner, and Babe quickly grabs the cup and turns back to his computer.

And it’s probably the best coffee Babe’s ever had.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

“So, what’s up with that cup?” Bill asks.

It’s an innocent enough question, but Babe cringes anyway because dammit, he’s not ready to have a conversation about it. Especially with Bill. “It’s nothing.”

“Nothin’, eh?”

“Yep.” Babe studiously ignores him, going through a pile of prints he went through ten minutes before. 

“I don’t know why you’re doin’ this, Babe,” Bill says, hopping up on the counter. 

“Doin’ what?” he asks innocently.

“He brought ya coffee.”

Babe stops typing the email he was working on, and turns slowly in his seat. “You knew he was here, didn’t you?”

Bill laughs. “Can’t get nothin’ over on me, Heffron. Watched the whole thing. I’d say he’s into you.”

The words make Babe feel warm and fuzzy, as they should, but at the same time he’s scared out of his wits. “How come this isn’t weird to you?” he asks impulsively. 

“What, watching you and the mailman make eyes at each other? Jesus, Babe, you two ain’t that strange.”

Babe squirms in his seat and reaches back to pick up the cup. “Nah, I don’t mean that. I guess, I dunno, it’s just weird for me. It’s like I don’t know what the fuck to say to him. I mean, what if he’s not gay? What if-”

“Are you kidding me? I swear, Heffron, you just like to look for excuses.” Bill jumps down from the counter and slaps Babe upside the head so hard Babe’s ears are ringing and he drops the cup. “Stop bein’ a pussy.”

“Hey!” Babe says, rubbing his tender scalp and watching Bill head into the back room, shaking his head. “Asshole.”

“Whatever Babe,” Bill says over his shoulder. “You know I’m always right. Now where are those fucking prints you told me you did an hour ago?”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

The next evening, just before closing time, the door to the shop opens and Babe turns around, not expecting to meet a pair of familiar dark eyes.

“Eugene.” His words come out breathlessly, and that annoying blush starts on his cheeks.

“Edward.” He’s looking at Babe with a grin, and the butterflies in Babe’s stomach multiple a hundred times over. 

“How’s it going?” Babe asks, shifting nervously behind the counter and trying to stare at anything but the man in front of him.

Gene clears his throat, looking at Babe as though he’s deciding something, his eyes dropping down to Babe’s lips for a very brief second. “I thought we might go get a coffee. I mean, if you want to.”

It’s like he’s speaking a different language. “Um, coffee?”

This time Gene laughs and Babe can’t stop staring at the way his eyes seem to dance. “Yeah, coffee. I heard you like it.”

Babe’s mind is going a mile a minute – _is he asking me out on a date?!_ – and he stares at the other man. “Um, I-” 

“Go ahead,” Bill says behind him. Babe jumps and turns to look at his friend, wanting to glare but he suddenly can’t remember how to. “I’ll lock up the shop. Get outta here.”

And that’s how Babe finds himself standing on the sidewalk with the mailman, all tongue-tied and awkward. Eugene’s grinning in his direction and putting his hand on the small of Babe’s back. “C’mon,” he says.

Babe swears he can feel the heat from Eugene’s hand through his shirt and he resists the urge to pull away. The man’s hands do strange things to Babe.

Eugene orders their coffee while Babe finds an empty table near the front windows. The coffee shop is always crowded, no matter the time. While waiting for him to return, Babe pulls his phone out of his pocket and almost drops the damn thing when he sees he has eight missed messages. 

**Try not to scare him away by talking about your comic book collection.**

**Call me if he turns out to be a serial killer. Wild Bill at your service.**

**Don’t be awkward. I know it’ll be hard, but try, Heffron.**

Babe doesn’t bother reading the rest of them because Bill is an asshole. Who’s getting punched in the face tomorrow.

“Here ya go,” Gene says, sliding a cup of steaming coffee across the table. 

“Thanks.” Babe glances over at Eugene and grins, thinking about Bill’s texts. What an asshole. 

“What’s so funny?” Gene asks as he stares at Babe over the rim of his cup.

“Bill. Sent me a few messages in the five minutes since we left.” Babe sips at his drink and laughs. “Told me to call him if you turned out to be a serial killer.”

“He’s got quite the imagination,” Gene says, laughing. 

“You have no idea.”

An awkward silence hovers around them until Gene knocks Babe’s foot under the table. “I promise I won’t kill you, Edward. Really wouldn’t want to piss off Bill.”

The more Gene talks, the harder Babe falls because not only is this man kind of beautiful, but he’s funny and maddeningly charming. It’s the rhythmic accent, Babe thinks, because every time Gene speaks Babe’s mouth goes dry.

“That’s as good a reason as any. A pissed off Bill is something out of a nightmare.” Babe sips at his coffee again, more than aware that Gene’s foot is resting against his, and he realizes in a flash that Gene is for real flirting. Coffee, foot rubbing. Promises there’d be no killing. 

All the signs point to it.

“So I take it by your accent you grew up here?” Gene asks, looking at Babe over the rim of the cup.

“Yeah. South Philly, actually.” Babe stares at his coffee for a second, watching the swirl of cream go round and round. “Where are you from?”

He’s smiling now, and Babe’s stomach actually flutters. Flutters for Chrissake. “Louisiana. Just outside of Baton Rouge.”

“How the hell did you end up in Philly?” Babe asks.

“Transferred here. Guess I was looking for something new.”

Babe starts fiddling with his coffee cup. “Did you find it?”

“Find what?” Gene asks, cocking his head to the side and looking so fucking endearing it’s just not fair. Babe has to clear his throat a few times.

“Something new?” he finally says.

Gene takes a second before responding, his dark eyes studying Babe which makes Babe feel itchy, of all things. “Yeah,” he says, wrapping his fingers around his cup, “I think I did.”

Babe can practically feel the heat emanating from his cheeks and he takes a drink of his coffee to cover it up.

“So, do you and Bill own your print shop?” Gene asks after a moment.

Now this is something Babe can talk about without blushing. “Yeah, it’s ours. We opened it up right out of college. Never thought it would work.”

“How long you been open?”

“Two years. Craziest time of my life.” Babe laughs, because even though him and Bill are getting to what can be called “comfortable” with their business, it still feels a little unreal.

“You like it?”

“Yeah, I do. Now that we’re breaking even.”

Gene smiles and his foot presses harder against Babe’s under the table. “Breaking even is good.”

“So, what about you?” Babe asks after a brief pause where they do nothing but stare at each other.

“The postal service was hiring when I needed a job,” Gene says simply. “Dropped out of college after my first year. Wasn’t for me, y’know?”

“D’you like your job?”

“It’s interesting. You see a lot walking around the city.”

Babe laughs. “I bet. This place is nuts. But it’s home. Sort of. Home’s really twenty or so blocks south, but its close enough I guess.” He’s rambling, not really sure what his point is now because Gene’s just staring at him. “I mean, not home home, but where I grew up. Where my parents live.” He gulps, and drops his gaze to his coffee, willing himself to just shut the fuck up.

Gene looks like he wants to start laughing. “I feel like I’m making you uncomfortable.”

Babe laughs, wanting to deny it but Bill’s words come back to him with a jolt – stop being a pussy. “Maybe,” he says, “but not a bad kind. Just, well, different.” And because Gene’s looking at him with a lopsided grin, Babe finds the courage he had no idea existed, and pressed his foot against Gene’s.

“I’m glad it’s not a bad kind,” Gene says.

It takes a few seconds for Gene’s words to make their way into Babe’s head but when they do he has to take a deep breath because fuck, this is nuts and moving kind of quickly. 

“Loosen up, Edward,” Gene says, his dark eyes sparkling. “I promised there’d be no killing.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------  


It’s dark as they leave the coffee shop, and Gene’s hand keeps bumping into Babe’s. The first time he thinks its an accident, but when it happens two more times, it becomes pretty damn obvious.

If this was a date with a girl, Babe would’ve reached out and held her hand without hesitation, but now, he can’t bring himself to move his fingers just an inch to the left. He wants to, can’t stop glancing over at Gene and each time he does, he finds the man already looking at him.

They come to a stop in front of the print shop, and Babe jerks his head towards the door. “I’ve got to stop in. Forgot my bag.” He stares down at the doorknob for a second, thinking about how he’d lost his chance to hold Gene’s hand, and he feels his stomach plummet because he wasn’t ready two seconds ago, but this time he is. 

At least he’s pretty sure.

“Do you want to come in?” 

Gene grins and it’s almost like the world becomes brighter, or maybe it just comes into focus a bit more, but whatever the hell it is, it kind of takes Babe’s breath away.

He’s trying not to look nervous as he unlocks the door and turns the alarm off. Flipping the light switch to the back part of the store leaves everything in shadows and Babe’s trying to remember how to take deep breaths. 

His bag is sitting on the counter in the back room and he grabs the strap, turning to look at Gene. 

“Always wondered what was back here,” Gene says, looking around the room. “Got a lot of printers.”

Babe laughs and leans back against the counter. “Well, it _is_ a print shop.”

“Haha.” 

Babe’s still chuckling and doesn’t notice at first when Gene moves closer, but when he looks up and the man’s less than a foot away, he freezes. Gene’s gaze is drifting down to Babe’s lips every few seconds and he’s got this look on his face, like he knows what he wants. 

It’s kind of hot, really. He’s so sure of himself, almost kind of cocky about it and fuck, Babe’s never been looked at like that in his life. It turns his insides to mush and how is it that this is happening after so many weeks of stalking the mailman every time he came within a city block? 

Now Gene’s moved in closer, and there’s just a few inches separating them and Babe can’t breathe because Gene’s gonna do it, the bastard is going to kiss him and turn his life upside down and Jesus, Babe wants it. 

“Gene,” he says, quite against his will, and it comes out shaky and Babe could quite literally pinch himself because Gene stops and peers at him.

“Edward,” he says, face not moving any closer but his hands settling along the counter top, effectively trapping Babe. “Have you ever, well…”

Babe knows he’s not talking about kissing in general, and he lets out a breathy laugh. “No, never. Can you believe it?”

This time Gene’s head does move closer and Babe pulls back instinctively. “Yeah, I can believe it.” 

“Am I that obvious?” Babe whispers, suddenly unable to stop looking at Gene’s lips.

“Yeah. You are.” He’s staring at Babe with soft eyes and now he’s so close Babe can see the individual hairs in his eyelashes. 

There’s no time to think about it any longer because a set of warm lips are pressing against his own and he can’t exactly breathe or form sentences. 

The mailman is kissing him. 

And it’s like any other kiss Babe’s experienced except it’s not because it’s a million times better. Exhilarating, really. So awesome that Babe kind of forgets to kiss Gene back until the man starts nibbling on his bottom lip and Babe opens his mouth, a shaky breath escaping his lips before Gene covers them with his own.

Babe’s hands come up to clutch at Gene’s biceps and his entire body is shaking. From nerves, excitement, shock. Maybe all three. The shaking grows worse as Gene opens his mouth and now their tongues are sliding together and Babe forgets how to breathe.

“It’s ok,” Gene whispers, lips brushing against Babe’s with every word, and his hands leaving the counter to wrap around Babe’s waist. “It’s ok.”

And it _is_ ok. 

Gene presses up against him and now they’re kissing deeper, mouths opening wider and Babe had no idea – no fucking idea – how incredible it could be. He wants more, and as his hands slide up to a set of strong shoulders, he realizes he’s whimpering into Gene’s mouth. 

Since when does he whimper?

The sounds seems to urge Gene on and he’s sliding a leg in between Babe’s and pressing even closer. Babe’s lost in the sensations - the faint smell of cologne coming from Gene’s skin, the stubble around his mouth that feels kind of wonderful, and the small noises that escape without abandon every time Babe whimpers.

“Edward,” Gene whispers softly as he starts kissing down Babe’s neck, sucking at the skin after he bites it. 

Meanwhile, Babe’s hands have gotten lost in thick, black hair and he’s arching into the other man, feels a hardness so like his own and he closes his eyes. 

“Jesus, Gene,” he moans when hands start fumbling with his belt and he has a split second to think how fucking amazing this is before warm fingers are pressing against his dick through his boxers. Gene’s gone mad, and Babe loves it, needs it. 

Wants it more than he’s ever wanted anything.

Gene’s pulling at his dick, and he moves his mouth to Babe’s, and they’re not kissing, not really – more like breathing each other in. Babe knows he’s being loud, can’t help the gasps that leave his mouth as his balls tighten and he’s so hard it hurts. He has time to think how beautiful Gene looks before his world erupts into millions of pieces and he cries out, chokes on the words that are on the tip of his tongue.

“Fuck, Babe,” Gene moans and Babe’s sorta aware of a rock hard dick that isn’t his own pressing into his hip and now it’s Gene gasping and shaking and Jesus H. Christ…

Babe holds tight to Gene afterwards, even though his arms feels like they weigh a hundred pounds. He doesn’t want to let go, might just hold on forever.

Or until Gene gently eases off of him a moment later. He doesn’t let go though, still keeps his hands on Babe’s hips and he grins softly.

“It’s ok?” he whispers.

It only takes Babe half a second to respond because he’s known the answer since the beginning. “It’s ok.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------  


Gene’s waiting for Babe outside the print shop the next morning, coffee cup in hand. He’s smiling and Babe’s grinning and when Babe stops in front of him the grin turns into a smile and then a laugh and it’s a fucking perfect moment.

Babe plucks the cup out of Gene’s hand. “Thanks.” 

“Who said that was for you?” Gene asks, reaching out to take the cup back but Babe holds it out of reach and they’re both laughing until Gene wraps a hand around the back of Babe’s neck to pull him in for a warm kiss. 

Babe stills immediately but it’s only a few seconds before he’s kissing the other man and not giving a shit that they’re in the middle of the sidewalk. 

It’s one of those moments that by all rights shouldn’t have an ending but then Bill walks around the corner and laughs.

“Glad you stopped bein’ a pussy, Heffron,” he says, sauntering past the two men to head in to the shop with a grin and a _he-he_ , and Babe decides that today might actually be the day he punches Bill Guarnere.


End file.
